The Mechanic

Charles Bronson’s Arthur Bishop keeps his life as trim as his tailoring. In his immaculately minimalist apartment, the contract killer is seen with a carefully arranged hi-fi system, the centrepiece an Anthracite Grey Pro-Ject RPM 9.2 Evolution turntable. It suits him: precise, polished, almost severe, with no room for clutter or sentiment. The machine sits neatly in step with Bishop’s controlled, solitary manner, a small but telling detail in a film built on discipline and friction. A man like this does not decorate. He calibrates.